Jack dropped the knife, and walked sullenly aside. There were two sisters, you know. He looked down and met them. He reached a silver cigar and cigarette box from the sideboard and put it before his father-in-law, and for a time the preliminaries of smoking occupied them both. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. She reminded him of his linnet, when he gave the bird the freedom of the house: it became filled with a wild gaiety which bordered on madness. “We don’t let to ladies,” they said. “Hullo!” Courtlaw, haggard, his deep-set eyes more brilliant than ever, took Anna’s hand into his, and breathed a little close drawn sigh of content. And before Kneebone could draw his sword, he felled him to the ground with the iron bar. His perception of her personal beauty deepened and quickened with each encounter. The one fault, indeed, of this school of fiction for him was that it had rather a light way with parental rights.
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